Hit and Run

Light breaking through the window
Breaking through and not
Revealing
You still
Wandering around in a
Dark room, not knowing the
Shape of or the
Sound of your words
like me pounding on a tall, white door and
not making a sound.
How cruel this light
Is as it illuminates but
Does not answer, yelling upward at the
sun, howling,
Moving particles with my breath while
Words refuse to converge with
Sound.
It’s like never slowing on the
Highway to hear the same
Transient woman, the one with hair down to her
Heels, getting caught in her sandal
Just take a breath.
Yeah, I have
Never heard an exhale out of her.
To us, she is dead:
Your existence as unbelievable as hers
Behind the
Whir of rubber against the pavement.
I make noise so as not to find
You.